


Downtown Girl

by azephirin



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 1000-3000 words, 1000-5000 Words, Casual Sex, Comment Fic, Ghosts, Lawyers, Manhattan, New York, Other, POV First Person, Pegging, Safer Sex, Sex Toys, Spanking, Threesome, Threesome - F/M/M, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-09
Updated: 2010-02-09
Packaged: 2017-10-07 03:28:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/azephirin/pseuds/azephirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>I am not that kind of girl, OK?</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Downtown Girl

**Author's Note:**

> Longer original version of what I posted for the prompt "[Sam/Dean/OFC, pegging](http://phantisma.livejournal.com/242342.html?thread=5956006#t5956006)" over at [Comment Porn Month](http://phantisma.livejournal.com/231800.html).

Look, before you go making assumptions, I am not that kind of girl, OK? Yes, I had a harness on hand, but my ex-boyfriend bought it: We were together for two years, and he liked it up the ass now and then. There's nothing wrong with it. And don't even give me that look about the dildoes, because what woman in New York City with an income, a normal sex drive, and half a brain doesn't invest in a nice toybox for herself? I live two blocks from Toys in Babeland. Sometimes you just need a treat after a long day at work.

Anyway. All this weird stuff had been going on in my building, and it turned out to be not bad maintenance—for once—but a fucking ghost. Some asshole landlord who used to own the place and really, really hated it that we were rent-stabilized now. I had no idea what to do—you can't exactly call 311 to report a haunting—but my neighbor Maria said she was pretty sure her cousin in New Paltz knew some people, and a week later they were there. Two of them, both tall, both hot, and both highly effective at sending ghosts to wherever slumlords spend the afterlife. In buildings with rats and without hot water, I hope.

Afterwards, it was a nice night and Sam and Dean were rocking the flannel like it was Seattle in 1993, so I took them to Loreley for celebratory drinks—it's a biergarten; they don't care what you're wearing. And then I took them back home. Because—well, do I really need a reason?

We got inside, and I got to watch them kiss—I hadn't realized they were a couple, but this was obviously not their first time. Sam pushed Dean up against the wall, and Dean gasped and arched against him, and Sam pinned him and kissed him some more and I could have watched that all night. But then Sam pulled away and said, "Let's not forget our hostess, Dean," and I was so more than OK with that, too.

I took them back into the bedroom, and Dean raised an eyebrow at the red velvet box next to the bed. (I live by myself—why hide it?) "That looks like a box of tricks."

"Open it and find out," I suggested.

Dean did, while Sam stood behind him and worked on unbuttoning Dean's shirt. "I know what you want, Dean," Sam said, and pushed the shirt off Dean's shoulders, then looked over at me. "You want to see what he wants?"

I did, of course.

Wordlessly, Dean picked up the harness, and Sam grinned.

"I, uh, I can do that," I said.

Out of courtesy, I let Dean choose the dildo—it was going in his ass, after all—and then I leaned against Sam while Dean knelt down to fasten the straps around my hips and thighs. Sam kissed my ear and my throat while he played his long fingers over my nipples, all the while whispering things like, "I can't wait to watch, can't wait to see you sink inside him, make him take it. How are you going to give it to him?"

I answered by telling Dean, "Bend over," when he was finished.

He'd been brash and flashy the rest of the time, but he was nothing but obedient as he obeyed, spreading his legs, the lines of his back as strong and sleek as a dolphin's. Sam kissed the back of his neck and reached around to stroke Dean's cock while he opened Dean up with those beautiful fingers. Dean moaned and threw his head back, but he didn't move out of place, even after a particularly desperate gasp and, "Fuck, Sam, please!"

"I think he was very good," Sam said to me. "What do you think?"

I ran my hand up and down the length of Dean's spine. "He stayed in place like he was supposed to."

Except Sam surprised me by slapping Dean, hard, on the ass.

Dean let out a cry that was almost a sob.

Sam spanked him for a while, and then I did, too, and then we traded back again. Dean's ass was bright red, and when I went to stroke him some more, his cock was fantastically hard, the head slick with precome, and I could see him shaking with the effort not to thrust into my hand.

"Good boy," I told him, and Sam moved out of the way and let me sink deep inside of him.

Sam started stroking him from the front, and between the spanking, and the fucking, and Sam's gentle, insistent hand, Dean didn't last long, closing his eyes and biting his lip until Sam told him, "It's OK, Dean. You can come for us now," and Dean did, trembling and crying out.

Sam wanted me on top and I had no problem with that, and I let Dean slick a condom over Sam's cock before I sank down onto him. He was enormous, long and thick, but I was so wet that there was no pain, just full and exquisite pleasure. I moved his hands to my breasts, and then I realized that Dean, stretched out alongside us, was rubbing my clit. It sent me right over the edge, and Sam only held out a little longer, gripping my hips and coming in pulses that I could feel even through the latex. Then I collapsed to the side, and Dean pinned my hands and licked me until I came again against the lushness of his lips and tongue.

I fell asleep watching them kiss.

—  
| • |  
—

 

They were gone when I woke up, sparing us any awkward morning-after scenes, and I almost thought it had been a dream—it had to have been, because nice girls who practice commercial bankruptcy law don't do that sort of thing. Except my hips and thighs showed the beginnings of bruises from Sam's hands, and I definitely felt as though I'd been fucked, and fucked well.

I put the harness away, took the dildo into the kitchen to sterilize later, showered, and dressed. And then, because I had to tell somebody what had happened even if it made me a slut (or, worse, even if they didn't believe me), I called my best friend and said, "Dude, oh my God. Can you meet me at Charbon in half an hour? You won't believe what I did last night."


End file.
